Bedside Manners
by MonaCK
Summary: A missing scene from Double Trouble in the Panhandle. How did two of them fair sleeping in that little tiny bed?


"All I'm saying is, Booth, that Anthropologically speaking, that while there is a natural attraction that can happen between a male and a female, there is no reason that that attraction has to be acted upon. That is, of course, if I were attracted to you. Which I am not."

The RV that the FBI had provided them with had seemed okay at the time when Booth was presented it, but on the eve of their first night being spent in it, in this portable town where the circus took place, it was suddenly feeling uncomfortably small. And as he watched Bones begin to strip down, Booth was finding it uncomfortably hot as well. And now they were having a heated discussion over whether or not it was a good idea for the two of them to share the only bed in the unit. Booth, being the ever gallant gentleman, had offered to sleep on the floor. He wasn't looking forward to it, as he was sure that his back would be out by the morning. But he would do it, if it made Bones feel more comfortable. And then this ridiculous discussion had begun between the two of them.

"You obviously have never seen 'When Harry Met Sally'," Booth retorted, as he tried very hard not to watch Bones slide behind the small bathroom door. She was changing into pajamas, and he had to divert his eyes away, trying not to imagine exactly what clothing was going off of her body, and what was taking it's place. He was attracted to his partner. But he wasn't going to act on it. Because that would be taking things to a point that he could never return from. And there were many times that he was pretty sure that Bones was attracted to him, no matter how much she protested otherwise.

But the fact that he was not going to act upon it did not mean that he was a saint. Or that he was someone that could be responsible for his own actions if he laid next to her all night, in that small bed, in that small RV, watching the rise of her body move up and down as he attempted to sleep.

"Who is Harry, and who is Sally, and who do they have to do with this conversation?" Bones spoke from behind the door where she was taking great pains to be as covered up as possible, and still able to sleep. Normally she slept without any hinderance of clothing, but that obviously was not going to work. So she had selected something out of her wardrobe. It covered her body, but not by much. But since they were adults, she reasoned, it didn't really matter what she wore to bed, just as long as she wore something.

"Harry and Sally were these characters in a movie. And they were friends. The best of friends. And they spent years pretending they were only friends, and that they could be only friends. But then they realized they were so much a part of their lives that they couldn't live without each other, and that they really did love each other."

"I don't see how that has anything to do with anything. That's a hollywood dramatization on what real life really is. This is real life, and I think that you and I, as two rational adults, can manage to stave off any kind of sexual animalistic needs in order to just do what you're supposed to do in a bed - which is sleep." Bones exited the small bathroom, and headed towards the bed. He had taken the time to change as well, stripping down to a wife beater t-shirt and his boxers. She tried very hard not to allow her eyes to roam over his body. They were adults, they could do this. She exhaled. "I am not going to be able to sleep all night if you're not comfortable," she admitted, as she sat down next to him again. "And you're not going to be comfortable on the floor."

"I'm not sure I"m going to be comfortable on the bed, either," he muttered. The fact that she was barely wearing anything to bed was not helping matters. But she slid down between the sheets and blankets, and seemed to be able to shut her eyes. So he finally leaned back, giving in to her demands and explanations. Well, if he was going to be awake all night, it would be better if it was for sexual frustration, rather than lack of good back support, Booth mused.

*

Booth was staring at the ceiling, his mind on overdrive as he contemplated the events of the day. He was not an analytical sort - that was Bones forte. But he did know people. And he knew that Bones was more relaxed getting into the role of being the wife of a knife thrower than he had seen her in a long while. And it was interesting - for as logical as she was most of the time, she also had a record of being a risk-taker in situations.

Booth had known what he was doing today. His Ranger experience didn't allow for anything less than excellence, and he was confident that he would be able to pull off the knife throwing trick without any kind of problems. But it was the step beyond that also intrigued Booth. She trusted him. She had to trust him in the day to day operations of their job together. But this was almost a step beyond. She just knew that Booth wouldn't hurt her. And by God. He tried every day to make that a reality. But that didn't mean that it didn't weigh heavily on his mind.

He turned to look at his partner, who didn't seem to be having any trouble sleeping at all. In fact, in the process of Booth tossing and turning, she had managed to steal all the blankets, wrapping herself up in them like a cocoon. She was beautiful when she slept, he noted. She was beautiful when she was awake too, but that went without saying.

The RV, however, was drafty. A sure sign of the age of the ratty old RV that the FBI had set them up with. He wished, as he rolled back onto his back, resting his one hand at his side, and his other behind his head, that the FBI had saw it fit to provide them with a second blanket. Or a second bed. A second bed would have been good too. He shifted his head towards Bones again. How could she sleep when he was laying here, right next to her, just inches away, shivering and cold?

He was contemplating some sort of evasive maneuver to get some of the blankets back, in an attempt to actually get some shut eye, when she turned her features settling into an even calmer demeanor. "Seeley…" The word escaped her lips like a breath, and then a smile, and then her features relaxed as she settled into an even deeper sleep.

Sighing, he exhaled, allowing his eyes to flitter closed. So he was on her mind while she was dreaming. That didn't mean anything, right? She was probably thinking about the case. But if she was thinking about the case, wouldn't she have uttered Booth as opposed to Seeley?

If he thought about this any further, he was going to go out of his mind.

*

The lights streamed into the RV, causing Booth's eyes to flutter open. He supposed that he had managed to get some shut-eye after all, which was a good thing. The bed next to him was empty, the blankets finally free of the confines of one still very scantily-clad Temperance Brennan. Booth groaned and pulled the blankets over his face. "Bones," he muttered, his voice now muffled. "Can you please put something else on?" But she ignored him, instead opening up the front door of the RV. Booth scrambled to put on the first thing he could grab - his pants from earlier that he had warn while playing the part of the Russian Knife thrower and followed her outside.

They were gone. And it was just the two of them again. It had been fun for a while, escaping. And it had even been… interesting spending the night with her, in the most chaste sense of the word. And he would miss it - the wild abandon and freedom of his brief stint in the circus. But just as well, as the two of them stood out there and looked at the vast wasteland. They would have to go back to their regular lives, soon enough. But as Booth reached out, and intertwined his fingers with Bones, he marveled at their perfect fit. She was his partner. She was his friend. And for now, that was enough for him.


End file.
